


Dream

by sasha_b



Series: Live By The Sword [75]
Category: King Arthur (2004), Original Work
Genre: M/M, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-28
Updated: 2019-10-28
Packaged: 2021-01-06 01:40:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,387
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21218444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sasha_b/pseuds/sasha_b
Summary: Sexy times for Arthur and Lancelot.





	Dream

**Author's Note:**

> This is set during the time Arthur is attending the police academy, and before Lance has decided to go his separate way.
> 
> Originally written in 2011.

The wind was wet and heavy, and his forehead beaded up with sweat as Lance leaned against the wooden railing of Arthur’s balcony. Stars hid behind smog, occasionally teasing the watcher with their twinkling as the puffy grey poison clouds blew across the sky.

The city was as silent as it ever was at three am, and he shoved impatiently at his longish curls as he leaned further out, trying to catch a glimpse of any activity or anything that would distract him from his thoughts. He could wake Arthur…but the other man slept so poorly normally he didn’t have the heart. They’d been having a weird time of it lately despite the night Lance had supposedly forgiven Arthur for taking the academy position without telling him, and he wasn’t sure what he’d say if he _did_ wake Arthur.

He blew out a breath and rocked back on his heels, the damp air making him feel sticky and dirty. He could take a shower, or make some coffee inside, in the air conditioning. He could watch the giant tv he’d forced Arthur to buy, or read one of Arthur’s endless supply of books. He could internet shop – he hated all his pajamas, and the old sweats he currently wore were falling apart – and Guin’s birthday was coming up –

“Umf.”

Lance cocked an eyebrow as he braced himself against the railing, a grunt escaping as he turned his head to stare at Arthur. “Awake, hm?” He turned and smiled brightly to the sky as Arthur’s stubbled face nuzzled into his neck, the other man’s arms going around his middle. “I hope I didn’t – ”

“I had a dream,” Arthur rasped, drawing Lance closer to him, his loose cotton pants leaving nothing to the imagination. His hair was wild and his eyes burned in the dark of the balcony, his hands running over Lance’s back and buttocks, squeezing and mapping the skin, leaving firey trails that forced goose bumps to the surface. The moon shone on them briefly – and then the smog hid it like it hid the stars.

Arthur hadn’t turned the lights on in the house, and they were plunged into darkness lit only by the streetlights. Lance sucked in a breath as Arthur pulled him closer, their bodies melding, shaped to one another, their slick skin sliding easily. The humidity was a killer, but it did have a benefit, he thought, as Arthur’s teeth nipped a freezing line up his throat. He hadn’t shaved, and Arthur would probably have burned lips – well, it didn’t matter if the other man wanted what Lance thought he –

“Uh, Arthur,” he gasped out as Arthur's right hand, large and calloused and warm, found its way inside his sweat pants. “What sort of dream was this? Are you sure you want to stay out here – god,” he trailed off as Arthur lifted him bodily and sat him on the railing, shoving his legs apart as Arthur knelt.

Arthur didn’t answer, and Lance was glad as he really didn’t want to distract the other man from what he was doing – which wasn’t something that happened all that often. Why worry about the mundane? He canted his head back and held himself up over three stories of straight fall to the street, his knuckles blanching out as Arthur took Lance into his mouth, roughly, possessively.

“I – oh god,” he breathed, whispered, tilting his head back until it swam, the dizziness filling his mind as Arthur’s lips and tongue took hold of his cock and refused to give him a moment to focus. Wet heat surrounded his flesh and he felt the same as the air blew gently around his body, moving his hair lightly, drooping it into his eyes, hiding the sight of Arthur’s dark head between his thighs.

Spiraling tingling worked its way up his legs, his stomach muscles clenched, and he let go of the railing with his right hand, grabbing for Arthur’s hair, a word of warning on his lips – Arthur was suddenly standing, and kissing Lance as though that was the only thing he knew how to do. Lance’s body was taut, tense, burning and aching for what Arthur hadn’t finished. He wrapped his legs around the other man’s waist – not easy to do when your sweat pants were halfway down your legs – and sucked on Arthur’s bottom lip wetly. One long-fingered hand slipped into Arthur’s humidity damp hair, the other snatched at the thick muscle that banded Arthur’s shoulders.

“Finish it,” he licked at Arthur’s mouth, drawing away only briefly, “take me.”

Sounds suspended in Lancelot’s mind; the city drew to a close, a single breath louder than the traffic that had ceased suddenly. The thick hot air held him aloft against Arthur’s body, the rough wood of the railing scratching his ass even as Arthur’s lips took control of his, drawing, sucking, bruising and plundering. Arthur answered with a growl – and Lance could hear the swinging of the streetlights in the light wind, the smell of the ocean randomly filling his nostrils. Arthur’s hair was stuck against Lance’s cheek and Lance’s hand in Arthur’s hair tugged roughly; a few strands broke free as Lance sucked in a low sound of Arthur’s name. A hand wrapped around his erection and pulled, the fingers scraping and tight and _OH the gods own truth_ he came hard, Arthur’s name the only thing Lance knew or cared a whit about. Every nerve ending he had was focused in that one spot, and the warmth from his release rapidly cooled on his own legs. He could feel the slickness of it between his flesh and Arthur’s fingers even as the other man slowed his motions and broke their kiss, the pop echoing more loudly than any car horn from below.

Arthur’s sweat soaked forehead lay cradled against Lance’s neck and shoulder, and Lance allowed his legs to drop from around the other man’s hips. His sweat pants slid the rest of the way off, and Lance didn’t care – he was sitting on Arthur’s deck, completely naked with a rather large erection, sated and tired and confused. A dream, Arthur'd said.

Arthur lifted him down and switched their positions, shielding Lance’s naked front, tugging him into a tight embrace that was almost too –

“What kind of dream, Arthur?”

A laugh from the other man; it rumbled Lance’s throat, tickling the sensitive skin. He shivered, the sweat on his body cooling too rapidly despite the warm air. The smoggy clouds parted; Lance bent over slowly and tugged his pants back up as the stars decided to show up, winking and dancing as though they shared in some secret Lance had no answer for.

“A you dream,” Arthur answered. “I wanted you.”

“You have me,” Lance answered, his voice tight and filled with whatever it was always filled with at the thought of this man in his arms. Slick, broad shoulders, heated skin, stubbled cheeks, full lips and the eyes…green flickered down at him as Lance opened his own dark eyes and looked up at Arthur.

Time swirled and dipped – school and funerals and Guin and work and life and Roland and everything that didn’t matter – Arthur mattered. Only Arthur mattered, and Lance bit his lip and blinked, the lights from the stars and the street lamps hazing and blurring as he considered the truth. The truth that this man he loved – and that loved him – was the only thing that counted – and what the _fuck_ would happen if he left? Or disappeared? Or someone took him from Lance?

_What if he left?_

That thought echoed and bounced and rattled around the cage in Lance’s head and he shut his eyes against the stars and buried his face in Arthur’s chest. Sweat slick arms held him there as the _ what if’s_ grew louder and louder, drowning out the breathing and smell and sense of home.

Lance gripped at Arthur’s shoulder with his nails and scored the other man’s skin – the moon shone and _a you dream_ rose to fill the world with its righteousness. Painful, tearing, awful righteousness – Lance sucked in a breath and the echoing shattered, silenced, and he blew out the breath against Arthur’s skin.

Smog slowly drifted over the moon again, and the darkness surrounded them, wet and warm and still.

~

**Author's Note:**

> I had no clue that I was missing so many ficlets from this site. I hope to post more in the coming weeks. Thanks again to everyone who still reads/comments on this series. xo


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